I’m A Members Club Dropout

This autumn in New York City, the most bountiful crop might well be new members clubs pushing nicer food, plusher interiors, and more “curated” clientele. What comes after the implicit “better than” usually goes unsaid, but one doesn’t need much knowledge of moire wallpaper and former Al Coro chefs to see where the affluent and publicphobic are decamping from in favor of ritzier pastures. Here, a 20-something executive in the entertainment industry tells NYLON why boorish guests and a fateful pool day finally persuaded her to cancel her membership after six years.

There was definitely the allure of Soho House being exclusive. And there was, at the time, the reputation for celebrities going there. I do a lot of business meetings, so it was a great place you could take clients for lunch or dinner. And people from out of town were always impressed, especially if there wasn’t a Soho House in their city. I remember on the first night after my friend moved here, we went to the original location in Meatpacking and ran into two friends. It did feel like the community was stronger then — you could go on a random weeknight, and you would probably see someone you knew in your creative-industry corner.

During COVID, I put my membership on hold because I was going back and forth to Texas. (This is before there was a Soho House in Austin.) When I came back, it was great to use the pool, but I got so used to not having it that I did think about canceling.

Then it became really difficult to book the pool at all. In June, I was able, by setting an alarm 24 to 48 hours before, to book a sun bed at DUMBO House. We even showed up early, but they wouldn’t give us our reservation. They seated every single person behind us. Eventually, we found out the person from the earlier session was refusing to leave, but the management didn’t do anything about it. No exaggeration, we waited 30 minutes — it might’ve been 45. We were close to leaving. It was so incredibly annoying and frustrating. They were apologetic, but they didn’t offer us food or drinks or another seat. We stayed, but, I kid you not, that was the only reservation I was able to make the entire summer.

We were close to leaving. It was so incredibly annoying and frustrating.

Every time I tried to make one after that, it wouldn’t work. I would try to use the app. I would email and call and be like, “I set an alarm. I went in to try to make reservation. Can I make one over the phone? Can I come wait in line?” They were like, “No.” It was so unhelpful. Once I had that bad experience and wasn’t able to book the pool ever again, I was like, “OK, I’m done.”

Starting in 2022, I also noticed that the clientele had changed. It felt douche-ier: people refusing to get up, taking selfies even though you’re not supposed to take photos, talking to strangers. I was there with one of my best friends once, and one guy was hitting on her hardcore. It didn’t take much research to find out he had a serious girlfriend. Then the other guy said he was newly dating someone, and then you find his Instagram and they’re engaged. It was just sleazy.

One guy was hitting on my best friend hardcore. It didn’t take much research to find out he had a serious girlfriend.

All those things taken into account, I decided to cancel before I was due to be billed for the next quarter. They gave me a hard time, saying, “Well, we’ll charge you for this quarter, and then you can cancel at the end of the year.” I was like, “I don’t want to pay for the next quarter because I don’t want to go anymore.” There could have been some fine print, but I was able to get out of it, given what a bad experience I had.

I’m no longer interested in being a member of a place because it’s sexy. I’m applying for National Arts Club instead because I like that it’s in my neighborhood, and I love its programming. I love the access to Gramercy Park. It’s understated. A lot of the members are much older, so you don’t go there for the flashy vibe. The service at the bar and restaurant isn’t like Soho House, where it’s notoriously slow and you get intentionally ignored to make them seem cool.

In theory, if you’re a member of an athletic or arts club, you actually get to know people because you’re bonding over activities. I feel like if it’s purely social, like Soho House or Zero Bond, they’re very douche-y. So I don’t see the value. I could be wrong, but I think they’re a little vapid.